As a Hatter
by amour tue lentement
Summary: "Funny, he can't remember lying his face against the cold, dirty cement. He can't remember what he was doing there in the first place." Confinement "Era", Mild Horror


**Disclaimer:** Don't own Death Note, or Alice in Wonderland.

**AN: **Takes place in the confinement, and my imagination's weird, drug-like influence :). So this is rambly and run-ony because of his deteriorating mental state. Very mild horror.**  
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><p>"<strong>we're <strong>_all _**mad **here"

-_Alice in Wonderland, _Lewis Carroll

There are exactly forty-seven chips in the wall facing east, and two stains on the ceiling shaped like Abraham Lincoln. He has been in this room for over a hundred and four hours, and in the next two, Matsuda will come again with a bowl of food and a plastic spork _"just in case" _he tried anything _"funny._" Matsuda will attempt at some small talk, Light will pretend to be interested, and then at exactly eight o' clock PM, the rookie detective will leave, rushing out and forgetting the spork. At eight o' seven, he will come back and retrieve it.

_Honestly, _as if Light could hurt someone with a stupid piece of plastic.

It isn't as though he would snap the edge of the spork off against the wall, until the point was good and sharp. Jam it down Matsuda's throat, like _he_ was the less-than-human, watch him gasp and flail, watch those obnoxiously adoring eyes roll backwards, hear him croak out _"mercy mercy mercy"._ Ignoring those pleas, he would persist, tearing the man's esophagus up with the weapon until the blood bubbled up to Matsuda's mouth. And he would deserve it. They would all deserve it. They deserved it. They deserved it. They deserved it..._  
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Enough of that.

Light looks away from Chip Number Twenty-Seven, and back down to the floor. Funny, he can't remember lying his face against the cold, dirty cement. He can't remember what he was doing there in the first place. Maybe, this was a prison. Maybe, he'd already been convicted without his realizing it. Maybe, just maybe this was all a lie, they just wanted him to say that he was Kira, they just wanted him to admit it. He lifts his face up towards the camera.

_"I'm not Kira," _he croaks. His voice is so weak and underused that he wonders if anyone can even hear him. If L can even hear him.

_L. _The man behind it. Behind everything. L will never give up, never accept that he isn't Kira. L will sit there and watch him until he becomes a corpse, until he rots and flies circle him. Until his body decomposes in front of everyone - only then will L admit his mistake.

For some odd reason, this makes him laugh. It's just as harsh unnatural as his voice, a laugh he has never heard in his own life. A madman's laugh. He presses his face back down on the ground, trying to muffle his laughter. Tears sting the corners of his eyes, even though there's nothing to cry about. _"Not. Not Kira. Not Kira."_

He stops.

Forty seconds have passed.

Sounds important.

Probably isn't.

L probably wants him to think that. Wants him to believe that everything has to do with Kira, _everything! _L watches over everything, omnipresent. Almost like a god...

Anger flares within him. How _dare _L hold himself up so high,_ how fucking dare _he flaunt his power in all of their faces. L looks down on everyone, no one is good enough for him. Light can see the detective sitting on a throne, high above the rest, looking down his nose at the others. His loyal followers, chanting his alias, stretching upwards. They're clawing at him, each trying to get a piece. They tear bit by bit, peeling him like wall paper and...

_What _is he thinking? L isn't god. Why, compared to a god, he would be an ant._ (Splat! _The detective is smeared on the bottom of Light's left shoe. Or maybe a _crunch _would be more accurate.) They would all be ants. The idea of being an insect makes his stomach turn. Restlessly, he flops over.

A minute.

One more minute locked inside this hellhole, with nothing to do but count the number of times the camera's red light flickers. Never would he ever submit someone to this type of mind-numbing torture. If he was L, he would never chase an innocent man so far - not when there were so many guilty ones out there. His stomach turns again as he pictures all the wrongs being done right under L's nose, just because L's invested so much time in the Kira case.

Kira. Rotten, evil Kira. The words don't sound right to him, not even in his mind.

There are exactly forty-two chips in the wall facing east. Two stains on the ceiling shaped like American Presidents. The camera light flickers thirty-nine times a minute.

And it's only a matter of time before Yagami Light goes completely insane.

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><p><strong>EN: <strong>Well, I know what happens to _my _average brain when I'm dying of boredom. I'd pity Light's _superspeshulawesome _one in the confinement, lol.


End file.
